Nameless
by DelphiniumSweets
Summary: When Chrollo brought home a beaten, bloody girl, Feitan didn't expect much. But he's pleasantly surprised when he realizes what's underneath the assumptions. (FeitanxOC)


Nameless

Summary: When Chrollo brought home a beaten, bloody girl, Feitan didn't expect much. But he's pleasantly surprised when he realizes what's underneath the wounds. (FeitanxOC)

**(A/N: This popped into my head while watching some hair dye and makeup videos on YouTube (I got bored okay) and I had to write it. There isn't enough love for Feitan, or a lot of cool characters really! This is just a one shot, simply because I don't want to make up a whole fully developed OC right now. I sketched my vision in my sketchbook rather badly, and that's good enough for now.)**

The past week had been chaos for the Troupe. Chrollo was contacted by the chain user and his friends over a shared enemy of theirs. They had met up somewhere, and were ambushed. Over three days the group devised a plan to infiltrate the base, as there were hostages to rescue.

After most of the hostages were set free, a single girl was found beaten and tortured in the basement. And that was Thursday.

It's Saturday now, and the Troupe's resident interrogator was called into Chrollo's "office" for a new assignment.

"Feitan, this is going to sound a little strange… but I want you to get information out of our guest without hurting her. Also, keep her from hurting herself. I tried having Machi talk to her, but nothing was gained. We don't even know her name at this point."

Feitan nods, "of course." He answers bluntly, "you're boss." The ebony haired man turns and exits the room of the abandoned hotel, nodding to Phinks waiting in the hall.

Feitan adjusts his bandana before heading up to the top floor, where the girl was put up in a penthouse suite. The whole hotel was vintage, and beautiful. Feitan had only seen things like this in books, or in pieces. The dusty treasures lined the walls like a museum without velvet ropes. Portraits of people he's never heard of, statues of deities with names he can't read. The hallways were lined with gold-leaf wallpaper, and marble columns. The beauty concealed in a simple stone building among a ruined city no one cared to remember.

The winding spiral staircase gave way to a wide entryway labeled "the Rochelle penthouse" in red lettering. Feitan took a deep breath before knocking.

"Come in." a musical voice calls. He opens up to see a hallway. After a pause, a small humming starts from beyond his vision. Curious, he carefully rounds the corner.

The first thing he sees is long lavender hair, tumbling over the back of a lavish chair. In the reflection on the vanity mirror a round face peers into itself intently. An eyeliner brush paints a shiny black liquid across the top of her lid. Her shiny, glossy lips pursed in concentration as she focused entirely on the task.

She puts the pen down, looking at Feitan through the mirror. "Oh, you're new. I suppose you're Feitan then…" Her gray eyes dart away again, "That pink haired girl said you were the specialist in interrogation."

Feitan nods stepping further into the suite. Most of the décor was white, with champagne and navy blue accents and all sorts of pillows and plush furniture. A wardrobe was open, and several vintage dresses were scattered on the bed. It looked like it would when a rich socialite of the past was staying there.

She took a sip from a white tea cup and turned around in the chair. "You sure are quiet Feitan."

Feitan sits on a chair, "I can't speak too much… do not know many words." He looks away, appearing rather embarrassed at his predicament, "most time I hurt people to make them talk. Chrollo says I can't hurt you."

The girl nods, "I understand. I'm trying to learn French right now; it's not easy." She pauses, looking back at the mirror, "I suppose I should just start telling you things; I'd hate for you to lose your job over something stupid. So, what do you want to know?"

Feitan just shrugs, "name?"

She giggles, "Well… honestly I don't have one. People have called me Lavender, Lilac, Violet… but I don't know, none seemed right. They only referred to my hair, not who I am. I've considered dyeing it a few times, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. "

Feitan nods, and writes something down, "Age?"

The girl stops smiling, "Almost seventeen… I think. I'm an orphan, so I could be off by a year or so…" the smile returns to her childish face, "I don't really know much about myself to be honest. I'm pretty sure I was born in early March, because when the orphanage found me I had Aquamarine earrings on, and I seem to be a typical Pisces." She finishes with a giggle.

Feitan nods and writes something else down. He loses himself in his thoughts for a while before getting up and looking out the window.

"You were… um… why you were… uh, sorry I just-"

"It's okay. You were trying to ask why I was captured right." Feitan nods, eyes a little wide. She bites her lip for a moment, "well, I don't really know. It wasn't ransom, since I have no one to send a note to. I suppose my Nen is a little interesting, but not enough to warrant that. It's only water manipulation after all. I can heat it up, or turn it to ice, as well as move it. But it's not _that_ amazing, at least not yet."

She grabs a bottle from a small bag next to her, and pours a little into her left hand, suddenly, it flies out of her palm, forming a heart in the air, before going back to the bottle.

'_She's really talented for her age.' _Feitan thinks, _'I would love to have a normal conversation with her. I understand what people say but when I try to speak it all disappears from my mind. She must think I'm stupid.'_

But he looks her in the eye anyway, gray orbs drawing him in. _'why am I getting attached to someone I just met? Well, she has all the qualifications to join us; no family, no life, Nen. And since we lost a few people a while back… my business side is acting up I guess. But I can't make a decision without consulting Chrollo." _

"You know Feitan, I used to have a postcard from this hotel. The Grand Cadet Hotel, turn of the century elegance mixed with all the mystery of the old gangs that ruled this city. It's no wonder this city was called the "concrete jungle of thieves" for a good fifty years."

She heads over to the window, standing next to the pale spider. "This room was named after Rochelle Adams, daughter of the leader of the infamous Crystal Scythe Gang. She stayed here the night their rivals took the city. She died in this hotel, these dresses belonged to her." She motioned to the bed, "This very room is like a photograph of the past… and now they want to take it down. The Hunters Association wants to turn this into an office building. But they can't find the deed to the land."

Feitan furrows his brow, "why do I care?"

She sighs, "I was kind of hoping that you all liked this place. If the deed is here somewhere, you could claim it. No one will mess with you guys."

Feitan nods, and makes another note.

'_Chrollo will love that idea. A permanent, legal residence with actual beds and all sorts of expensive things to show off. It's what we wanted from the beginning.' _Feitan laughs to himself, _'it'll be like playing the roles of the previous residents. In that case, she's like that Rochelle girl then.' _

"Tell me more… the gang." Feitan pushes, the sudden excitement in her voice more than intriguing.

The girl smiles, "I only had the one book, but from what I gather she died taking a bullet for the one she loved. She had fallen for one of her father's bodyguards, and he was supposed to watch her. A member of the rival gang the man later described as "inhuman, ugly and strange" tried to shoot him with an unrecognizable gun, but she took the shot in fear for his life. He dedicated his life to finding the gang, but he never did. It's rumored that descendants of the very killer may be alive today!"

Feitan, glad for the bandanna around his face, begins to blush heavily. Her eyes lit up and she seemed to shudder as she spoke. There was so much emotion behind her words, the sort of feeling Feitan never could get across. Just looking at someone so passionate about a subject enthralled him. He wouldn't mind listening to her talk all night, on that windowsill overlooking the crumbling skyline.

Emotions practically poured off of her as she went into detail about the hotel's history. Words fell eloquently off her tongue, weaving worlds before the man's very eyes. They sat there on the wide windowsill for an hour, the girl moving from topic to topic without rest, Feitan listening quietly and intently. Feitan was vaguely aware of some of the other Spiders outside the room, probably listening to her babble as well. But he knew there was no way they saw the value in her words.

In each sentence she carefully wove, a little bit of herself was revealed. Feitan knew what he'd use this web for; the only thing everyone down to the poorest man had since birth.

He smiles behind his bandanna, after she was finally out of topics to cover, "Can I give you a name?"

Her pastel hair jerks as she turns to face him full on. "I… I suppose so. You need to call me something." Her face lights up in a bright blush, "we've been sitting here for an hour and we still don't know who I am!"

He pulls out his phone and searches something. A long period of silence ensues until he looks her in the eye, pulls off his bandanna, and smiles.

"Callandra, French, meaning…. Beautiful Protector of Mankind. The website says that at least." He furrows his brow, "was that said well?"

She nods, "Perfect! I guess listening to me talk all night actually did something."

Feitan shakes his head, "the whole time, I was learning yourself. Because all people need a name. I wanted to… to… define you."

Callandra's cheeks flush a light pink and for once she's the one who can't speak.

Suddenly, Chrollo and a few others enter the room.

"You talk really loudly when you actually decide to talk!" Machi says irritably.

Chrollo laughs, "No wonder you couldn't tell us your name; you didn't have one! I'll bet Machi was doing more talking than listening anyway. I figured two girls would make better progress, but I suppose a professional is always the best bet."

Phinks rolls his eyes, "Well girls like to talk! And I can guarantee Feitan is the best listener in this whole building."

Callandra shrugs, "Was this a whole plot to make me open up to you?"

Chrollo shrugs back, "Well I guess we needed some info, as to decide what to do with you. I think I know exactly what would be the best course of action."

Phinks nods, "and if we didn't, Feitan would kill us in our sleep I'm sure!"

"What?" the black haired man asks in confusion, "Why would I-"

He stops mid-sentence as he suddenly realizes what they were implying.

'_They think I like her! As if I'd kill them if Callandra were to die and/or leave. Like I want to date her or something. How weird would that be? Wait, that implies that she isn't going anywhere… she's joining the Troupe? _

By the time that Feitan had processed this information, he was being dragged out of the room by Machi.

"Don't even try to say you don't like her! You took your mask off to smile at her, a small miracle in itself. Also, you took her own shared interests and struggles with yourself into account when naming her by giving her a French name. And it meant Beautiful Protector of Mankind! Not to mention how she kept talking for an hour straight and you never lost interest. You've got it bad."

Phinks appears behind him, "and I can tell you right now she likes you too. She went mute the moment you left the room, like she's lost without you!"

Kortopi, who apparently was there the whole time but hadn't said anything piped in, "she tried to move my hair. I don't like her."

Feitan kicks him lightly, "Too bad. Callandra stays."

**(A/N: Feitan was surprisingly hard to write for, since I'm so used to my own style of dialog. I just decided to have him be rather quiet instead of talking a lot but very badly. I put in the French references because it's from my life. I'm taking a French class and it's not easy. I can understand what my teacher says when she's talking to me (most of the time), but when I try to speak back it's like I've never heard the words in my life! So I speak in the phrases I know, usually I say "maybe" to whatever she asks me. Or just call the guy who sits behind me a stupid pomegranate when he annoys me. **

**And I feel like Feitan would be a good listener, given how much he struggles with speaking. It always mesmerizes me when someone speaks perfect French, with emotion behind it. Speaking and truly communicating something are very different. Also Callandra is one of my favorite names, and it was a challenge to find a French name with a meaning like that without the word belle in it somewhere.)**


End file.
